Tendrils Of The Past
by Renenet D
Summary: A look into the past...Future fic. Might need tissues.


I remember the day Jack died.

It was a cool, cloudy afternoon on a world hundreds of light years away. The stillness of the air was being broken only by the nearly silent rustling of leaves in a breeze. There was no other sound, no movement. Nothing.

He was just standing there, frozen, along with the rest of us. But we were still out of respect, I guess...a reverence. But he...he couldn't move. I wasn't sure he could even breathe. After eleven days of searching his eyes saw the sight everyone expected, but noone ever wanted to see, least of all him.

A body lying sideways on the ground barely resembled the man I knew. It was covered in dirt and crusted blood and the dust and rocks underneath it were painted dark, rusty red. A long metal spear - a harpoon, actually - was protruding at an angle from his back and chest, skewering the body all the way through. One arm was twisted, reaching behind for the spear in a futile, desperate attempt that achieved nothing but pain. Pain that was etched in the lines on the ashen face, in the dull blue eyes and the lips parted in a scream that fell silent long ago.

During those moments while we were all staring at the condemming sight before us he was still alive. Just barely. He snapped from the initial paralysing shock, walked a few steps then more fell then knelt down in the dried pool of blood. His arms reached almost on their own, picking up the body awkwardly because it was stiff and the spear was in the way. Then he begun rocking, back and forth, back and forth, in a silent rhythm, no sound coming from his mouth. I don't think he was aware of the tears streaming down his coloreless face, or of his hand stroking the bloodied hair. And then his eyes closed against the reality in his arms and the memories from the past long gone...and that was when he died. Slipped away silently, which wasn't that difficult after all because his soul had been dead for a day or two already.

During the long trek home, the solemn briefing, the funeral...his body was there with us, but his eyes were cold and lifeless. Those eyes I remembered well from before and tried to forget.

Several weeks later things were returning to the relative normality. They begun going offworld again and we hoped he would manage to survive, somehow.

Of all people, I should've known better.

One day, when my team and I stumbled back from a mission, he was gone. Just - gone. Dissapeared. No word, no letter, no phone call. We tried to get in touch, to find him, bring him home. But the years as a Black ops specialist serve you well if you don't want to be found.

That was nine years ago.

Everything changed after that. Not for the worse, really, just...changed. Carter never stepped offworld on a combat or first-contact mission again, Teal'c returned to Chulak and I...I tried to keep their spirits alive - to smile with arms open wide whenever I met a new race, to make Carter laugh, visit Charlie O'Neill on his every birthday and to light a candle on the Jackson's wedding anniversaries. I am trying still...

There were signs, however, signs that he was still out there, somewhere...operational, if not really alive...- occasional money deposits on Cassie's name, a children's book on archaeology for my son's tenth birthday and an unsigned postcard depicting a Hubble-deep space image with "Congratulations!" for Carter's promotion. It gave us hope.

So here I am, sitting at this deserted table after the wildest party the Mountain has ever seen. The project has become public today at 1100 and I still have half a bottle of beer to kill. Though I don't think I'll be going to sleep any time soon, not with the kind of reading material I have in my hands. I can't remove my gaze from the brand new, luxurious book - one of the three volumes - I'm holding...it's big, thick and glossy, and I think I'll be keeping them on a special shelf I'm yet to construct in my living room. The books in question were released at precisely 1110 today and are already a global bestseller. My finger traces the uprised letters of the title: _Through the Gate - The Life and Legacy of Dr. Daniel Jackson. Volume 1. Collected and Edited by Jack O'Neill._ I feel my lips curving upward as I open the first page and read: _For Danny - my life's work and joy, and my other kids - Charlie, Skaara, Sam, Cassie and Teal'c, with love._ I smile at the picture, a photo of SG-1 as I remember them, when they were four pieces of one. And as I start reading the foreward to excerpts from Daniel's field and private journals I know that they're both still here, because Jack has taught all of us that noone gets left behind, ever.

THE END

_P.S. - In case it escaped your notice, this is all Lou..._


End file.
